


Hyena

by Ruler_of_Nope_Island



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Restraints, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 14:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14166447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruler_of_Nope_Island/pseuds/Ruler_of_Nope_Island
Summary: Georgie finds the local hunter very interesting.





	Hyena

**Author's Note:**

> There's also some very, _very_ mild breeding kink in here. Not enough to warrant a tag though.
> 
> It's a bit less brutal than my other Daisy fic.
> 
> Happy Easter, friends.

It’s become routine to receive an “unknown number” call at about two or three in the afternoon, these days, while Georgie is safely ensconced in her editing room. She pretends the the noise of Jon still recording statements doesn’t penetrate her headphones; meanwhile he’s too wrapped up to notice that she’s talking to his boss.  
Elias has a voice that has had all the natural parts of speech- coughing, intakes of breath, pauses -smoothed away.  
“How is he this morning?”  
“Frazzled. Not eating.”  
“That’s unfortunate.”  
“I’m doing the best I can.” She rolls her eyes. She’s not his mother or his girlfriend. There’s only so much she can do and there’s even less of a chance he’ll listen. But Elias is generous and Jon’s wellbeing is a shared priority.  
“Hasn’t started packing yet?”  
“No signs. He says he’s looking but he likes it here. Likes the company. And not having to pay rent.”  
“Ms. Barker, I can assure you that you will be compensated-”  
“I suppose you can’t compensate me for a new flat? Just because I can’t be afraid doesn’t mean I want every eldritch horror knocking at my door at all hours.”  
“Well, you have the Admiral to think of.”  
“Exactly.”  
They both chuckle; it’s become a bit of a shared joke. Even Jon becomes second priority to a mangy ex-stray.  
“Something’s on your mind, Ms. Barker.” She’s glad he doesn’t pretend to ask anymore.  
“It’s not the eldritch horrors I’m concerned about,” she says. “I mean, I hear the last archivist was killed...normally.”  
“Yes. She was.”  
“Well, the policewoman - Daisy - who came around to my house…”  
“Don’t worry about our Daisy, Ms. Barker. She’s not a policewoman anymore.”  
“But she could be violent. I’d rather be dead than have everything broken.”  
“To be frank, Ms. Barker, any violence she does has to be sanctioned by me. And in the greater scheme of things, she’s a hyena in a world full of lions.”

All that Georgie knows about hyenas comes from the Lion King; she imagines them as rangy scavengers, creeping after larger beasts. So when there’s a knock at the door and Daisy’s voice calling for her she’s not even concerned. For all she cares it could be the fucking milkman. Daisy is taller than she remembers, which is strange; taller and more wiry. Tense, too.  
“I’ve come to check on him,” she says. “Elias sent me.”  
She always sounds as if she’s trying to start a fight. Despite her protestations, Georgie doesn’t feel the least bit concerned. In fact, there’s something weirdly thrilling about it. She imagines Daisy’s hands around her throat. She imagines the soothing oblivion starting somewhere at her toes and working its way upwards. But hyenas aren’t like that. Hyenas don’t -  
“Is he in?”  
“No. Went back to the Institute to talk to someone.”  
“Fuck.”  
She clearly wants to punch the wall but, thankfully, does not. Elias is right. He does have her on a leash. Another picture arises: Daisy on her hands and knees, a dog collar around her throat, snarling and barking - can you tame hyenas?  
“Can I come in?”  
“No.”  
All her violence must be sanctioned by Elias. And Georgie doesn’t feel fear. She expects to be cursed out and for Daisy to leave, but instead she leans right in close to Georgie’s face.  
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” Like Elias, it’s a question that’s not a question.  
“No.”  
“Hmm.” Again, not what she expected. Daisy seems exactly the type to vomit cliches: Oh, little girl, you should be. Georgie expected to be pushed to the floor, on her back, with Daisy on top of her. Hands around her throat and Daisy’s weight on her pelvis, grinding down -  
“Well. Here’s my number. Text me when he gets back.”  
Daisy turns on her heel and strides away. Georgie watches her go, then goes upstairs to her bedroom to masturbate.

She doesn’t text Daisy when Jon comes home. It’s not like she has anything to fear, even if she could. But she does text Daisy later; she’s alone in her room because Admiral has treacherously decided that he likes sleeping next to Jon. She pulls her vibrator out of her drawer, makes sure her door is firmly closed, lies down and turns it on. Gentle circles around her clit, first. Then a slightly higher vibration; she shivers. A decent wank is something she’s missed. It doesn’t feel right to do it while Jon’s in the house or while he’s awake and he’s neither left the house nor slept in weeks. 

She tries to concentrate on the sensations. Vibrations sparking fire in her veins, warmth gathering. But Daisy’s on her mind and she eventually embraces. Daisy would be kind, though. Daisy wouldn’t be gentle. She begins to edge herself, switching between intensities as soon as she feels her orgasm approaching. Then her phone chimes.

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

“Fuck,” Georgie clamps a hand over her mouth and switches the vibrator to its highest setting.

***

Georgie waits until Jon’s asleep before she leaves the house. She doesn’t need an interrogation as to where she’s going and she doesn’t want to explain why she’s dressed up. There’s a pang of guilt; she knows that Jon feels safer when she’s in the house. But she’s done enough hand-holding for now. He’s a big boy.

It’s more makeup than she usually wears; a slightly shorter skirt, a top that shows a bit more cleavage. But flat shoes. She’ll need to be able to run, if it comes down to it. 

During the long wait until she left the house she spent a little while on the hyena wikipedia page. Perhaps Elias’s reference to hyenas was accidental; perhaps not. Hyena societies, she reads, are matriarchal. The lowest ranking female outranks the highest ranking male (citation needed). The clitoris can resemble a penis...well. That’s getting a bit Freudian for Georgie’s tastes and she doubts that Elias would do anything as crass as insinuate about Daisy’s genitalia. She laughs, though, when she reads about hunting behaviour: apparently lions steal kills from Hyenas more than the other way around. 

Georgie escapes the house without waking either of the boys. She takes the late bus to anywhere, across the suburbs, through the city. She wishes her heart would race. Instead there’s just this strange sense of curiosity; is Daisy as good as she says she is?

Streets, people, noise. The smell of beer. Broken glass on the footpath. Then she walks into a park, feeling the wind write goosebumps across her skin. And the smell of cigarette smoke. There is a man walking up to her, feet crunching in the gravel, something like menace in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but then he is grabbed by the shoulders and pushed forward. There’s a nasty crack as his head hits a tree. And it’s Daisy, grinning, gorgeous and feral in the moonlight. 

“Come back to mine.” Does anyone working with the Magnus Institute actually ask questions? But Georgie follows; Little Red Riding Hood following her wolf - her hyena - back to her den. 

Through the door and onto the bed; Georgie has barely time to breathe before Daisy’s teeth are biting at her throat.  
“Just so you know,” Georgie says, knickers wet through and legs spread. “I’m going to fight. But that doesn’t mean I want you to stop.”  
When she says fight what she means is struggle; Daisy’s a lot tougher than she is and delightfully unconcerned about leaving bruises. There’s a leather belt looped around the end of the bed; Daisy uses it on Georgie’s thighs and she counts out each hit. Then there’s rope and that goes around her wrists. She pulls against the knots, more for show than anything else. 

Daisy leans over to the bedside table and pulls out a bottle of lube; coats her fingers generously and rubs Georgie’s clit. It’s cold but she pushes her hips up, rubbing herself against those callused fingertips. Daisy is smiling at her; not the cold grin from earlier, but a genuine, soft-eyed smile.

“I bet you take care of a lot of people, hmm? Place to crash, shoulder to cry on.”

This was an unexpected turn of events. Georgie nods, slightly distracted.

“Let me take care of you,” Daisy says softly. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Please,” Georgie begs. “Please.”

Daisy leans forward and kisses her; long and slow and something in Georgie loosens. She stops struggling, stops pulling at her restraints.  
“You’re gorgeous,” Daisy murmurs into her ear. “I bet you look pretty when you come.”

“Mmhmm.” Georgie nods. “Yeah. Although not many people people - ah.”

Daisy presses hard against her clit.

“What do you want me to do to you?” She asks. “Fingers? Tongue? Stap on?”

“Just-” another firm press and Georgie twists. 

“I can choose, if it’s too much of an effort.” The words have teeth in them. 

“Strap on, then,” Georgie says. In her mind she thinks of - really brain, cheers for that - high-ranked female hyenas mounting more submissive females as an act of dominance.

“Sure,” Daisy moves away, opens a drawer. 

“Surprise me,” Georgie says, shutting her eyes. She spreads her legs, and, after a minute, feels the bed dip under Daisy’s weight. Her hands are untied. Another kiss; more lube oozes across her clit and down. Then there’s a finger inside her, and other, and then another; stretching, rather than rubbing. Eyes still closed, she runs her hands across Daisy’s firm shoulders. The fingers are gone and she feels the stretch of a toy pressing against her. 

“Relax,” Daisy’s voice is soothing. 

The toy is much larger than what she’s used to taking but then she hasn’t, not since Jon. She feels guilty; it’s not his fault. But it was never enough for her, even though she told him that it was. This, though - this is more than enough. So good. Daisy rocks into her easily, the pace leisurely. She’s also got a couple of fingers gently rubbing at Georgie’s clit, clearly taking note of the reactions she gets. 

“Harder,” Georgie whispers. Daisy pulls out and flips her over onto her stomach. Then she drags Georgie’s hips up until she’s on all fours. And the toy pushes into her; a decent stretch and Georgie moans. Daisy’s thrusts almost feel like punishment. Georgie rubs frantically at her own clit, feeling Daisy’s sweat drip onto the back of her neck. She can’t stop thinking about the Hyenas - ancient writers thought they were hermaphrodites, the females’ clitoris resembling - ok, it’s fucking weird, but she imagines Daisy doing this, but with a real cock, imagines Daisy coming inside her, Daisy breeding her -

She lets out a low moan as she comes, feeling everything tense around the toy, her legs shaking. Daisy pulls out; Georgie can feel a mixture of lube and come dripping down her thighs. She rolls onto her back, smiling up at Daisy.

 

Daisy looks down at her, eyebrow raised. She unclips the harness, placing it on the bedside table. Then she swings her leg across to the other side of Georgie’s face, stroking her hair out of her eyes and looking down expectantly. She spreads herself and Georgie bites down a giggle because Daisy does have a fairly large clit; not abnormally so, not hyena-level. She flicks her tongue across it and Daisy jolts her hips forward. She opens her mouth, begins to suck; salt-sweet fluid smears across her lips.  
“Mmm,” her moan is muffled but Daisy hears it well enough; begins grinding down and fucking her mouth that Georgie’s jaw begins to ache. Daisy’s eventual orgasm is sudden; every muscle clenches and then there’s a sudden drop in tension.

Daisy climbs off her, panting. She lays down on the bed next to Georgie, closing her eyes.  
“Jesus. You’re good at that.”  
Georgie says nothing; she feels empty, but not in a bad way.  
“Where’s your bathroom?”  
Daisy gestures; Georgie goes out of the room.

As she’s washing her hands she watches her reflection; her lipstick only exists in traces of colour around the middle of her lips, and her eye-makeup has drifted from “smokey eye” to “racoon.” But her hair is mussed and in the dim light she can tell that she’s got that..something. Whatever it is. She’s tired enough to consider staying. 

Daisy’s under the duvet when she returns; draws back the covers, pats the mattress. Georgie lays down next to her. The cover is pulled back over her. Daisy turns off the light.  
She lies in the darkness, listening to Daisy’s breathing. 

She could get used to this. That’s a worrying thought.


End file.
